


Teacher!Tony AU

by theappleppielifestyle



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Deaf Clint Barton, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-02 04:43:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6551500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theappleppielifestyle/pseuds/theappleppielifestyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In order to keep it from their mother, Steve's kid brother drags him to a parent-teacher meeting.</p><p>Steve goes in grudgingly and comes out with a crush.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Heeeeey Steve-”

Inwardly, Steve sighs. He had paused in his sketching when he answered his phone, but now he resigns himself to put the pencil down completely.

“What did you do, Clint?”

“Hey,” Clint said, sounding less than offended. He clears his throat and it comes tinny through the phone, shot through with static thanks to Steve’s crappy connection. “I didn’t do anything. That I know of, anyway. So imagine my surprise when Mr. Stark corners me at the end of class and asks me to tell my parents to come in tomorrow after school!”

“Huh. Usually they just send you to the Principal.”

“I know,” Clint says.

There were the usual sounds of a cafeteria in full swing on Clint’s end. Steve could just picture him scuffing his already-scuffed shoes against the linoleum as he scowled into his phone.

“So, I was thinking you could come instead?”

Steve snorts. “I’m a little young to be your parent, Clint. Maybe if I had you when I was eight.”

“I don’t want to bother Sarah, okay?”

“Just call her Ma, Clint, Jesus,” Steve tells him, knowing it’s a losing battle. Clint has been with them for ten years now and he still refuses to call Sarah anything but that.

“Look, will you come or not? I’m probably being framed or something.”

 _I need to update my cellphone_ , Steve thinks as Clint’s sigh came on another burst of static.

Clint continued, “I know you’re busy-”

“I can get a couple hours off tomorrow,” Steve cut him off, already re-arranging his schedule he kept in moderate disarray in his head. He’d have to eat lunch on the subway and focus everything on his next commission, but other than that he should be fine.

“Really? Thanks, man. I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me crap,” Steve tells him. “I’ll be near the gates when your last class ends, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Another tinny voice comes from Clint’s end- his friend Natasha, it sounds like: “ _Who’s that, your imaginary girlfriend?”_

“ _No, it’s your mom_ ,” Clint replies, his voice faraway and then coming back close as he says, “See you, Steve. And thanks again.”

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

Steve spends the better part of the subway ride trying to eat his sandwich and clean mud off his jeans at the same time. It ends up with a slightly dirty sandwich by the end of it, due to him forgetting which hand he was using for eating and which he was using for cleaning.

He scarfs the rest of it down as he makes his way to the gates of Clint’s high school. There, he leans against the brick and plays Candy Crush on his phone until the bell rings.

It doesn’t take long to spot Clint in the crowd of teenagers, since he’s the only one making a beeline for Steve.

“Hey,” Clint says, and accepts Steve’s hello-hug. He even gives Steve’s back a few bro-pats before letting go. “How’s work?”

“Tiring. But rewarding. How’s school?”

“Just tiring,” Clint says, grinning when Steve rolls his eyes.

“And you wonder why they’re getting your parents in.”

“Getting my awesome big brother in,” Clint corrects. “Who is never going to tell Sarah about this, right?”

“Depends what your teacher wants to discuss. What’s his name again?”

“Mr. Stark,” Clint says as he shoulders his way back through the crowd. “He teaches this weird new Mechanics class and he’s awesome. Last year he let us build flame-throwers.”

“That… sounds very illegal.”

Clint shrugged. The illegality of things had never been a big concern of Clint’s. He probably had the flame-thrower stashed in the back of his closet.

Steve pockets his hands and hopes Mr. Stark won’t want to shake his hand due to the faint mud stains that crease his palms. Steve tended to be awkward about first impressions, but even he knew it’d be taken badly if Steve smeared him with mud during their introduction.

They make their way to the labs to find a man who Steve presumes is Mr. Stark sitting behind the front desk and muttering something at the paper he’s scribbling on. Both his sleeves are shoved up and his tie is flung over his shoulder.

Clint clears his throat, rocking on his heels. “Mr. Stark?”

The man looks up and Steve has to suppress the knee-jerk reaction of _oh no, he’s hot_. Steve had been picturing some grey-haired professor type- Mr. Stark looks thirty at the oldest, his goatee neat and precise, his eyes bright and distracted and, quite frankly, gorgeous.

“Yeah?”

Clint darts a look over at Steve before saying, “You… wanted to see me? On Monday, you said-”

“Oh, shit, yeah, sorry.” Mr. Stark waves them over, pushing his paper to the side. He looks grudging about it.

Steve and Clint shift chairs in front of the desk and sit down.

“Right,” Mr. Stark says, looking over Steve slowly. His eyebrows raise. “Clint, you remember how I asked you to bring your parents, right?”

“He’s as good as,” Clint shrugs, chin jutting out. “He’s my big brother.”

Mr. Stark nods, steepling his fingers. “Huh. Big is right.”

Steve stops himself from squirming just as he’s about to do it- he’s still not entirely used to the body he grew into several years back after they finally put him on the right medication, one that made it so he was able to exercise without having an asthma attack after fifteen minutes.

“…Um,” Clint says.

Mr. Stark coughs, drops his gaze. “Sorry! Sorry, I’m incredibly sleep-deprived today, my brain-to-mouth filter burned out around noon. Anyway, Clint- any particular reason why you brought- I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

“Steve,” Steve says, holding out his hand on pure instinct. He regrets it instantly when he sees the smudges of mud, and braces himself inwardly when Mr. Stark reaches out and grips it.

“Tony Stark,” the man replies. He gives Steve a grin that gets Steve’s stomach flipping as the handshake ends.

“Are we calling you Tony now,” Clint asks, looking between his brother and his teacher with an odd expression.

“He is,” Tony says. “You aren’t.”

“Aw, come on.”

“Teacher,” Tony says, pointing to himself. He points to Clint. “Student. Who still hasn’t told me why he brought Steve instead of your parents.”

“Parent,” Clint corrects. He straightens in his chair to look Tony square in the eye- Steve’s always had to give it to the kid, he goes full hog in any and all of his lies. “Sarah has work she couldn’t get out of. Steve’s boss is less of a dick, so here he is.”

“Uh- _huh_ ,” Tony says, with a tone that makes it clear he doesn’t buy into it. Steve finds himself wondering just how many times Clint has tried to pull one over on him. “And she’d confirm this if I called her right now?”

“Of course.”

Tony looked over at Steve, who averted his eyes until it was safe to look back at him. Steve was by no means a novice at lying, but he was nowhere near as good as his brother.

“Uh-huh,” Tony said again. “Okay. Well, that can’t be helped, I guess I’ll have to settle with your big brother. Just how much bigger is he, by the way? Age-wise?”

“Oh my god, are you _actually_ doing this.”

“Shush,” Tony tells him, all without dropping Steve’s gaze. “Steve?”

“I’m 26,” Steve says. His throat clicks. “You’re, you’re young. For a teacher.”

Clint kicks his ankle. Steve kicks him back without breaking eye contact with Tony, who's beaming.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment. Last year was my first year out of teaching school.”

“Oh?”

Clint kicks him again, this time hard enough to get Steve wincing. He turns to glare at him, only to be met with Clint’s incredulous gaze and mouthing of _seriously_?

“Right,” Steve says, mostly to himself. “So, uh, T- Mr. Stark. Why did you call this meeting, exactly? Has Clint done something?”

A laugh makes its way past Tony’s lips. No doubt he was aware of just how many times Clint had done something. “Not this time, no. I wanted to discuss possibilities on how to deal with Clint’s hearing issues, since they’re impairing his learning in the classroom.”

“Hearing-” Steve nearly asks Tony what the hell he was talking about before he sees Clint’s face, which answered his question.

Clint is staring straight ahead, eyes tight and expression too faux-casual. His eyes are trained on a poster above Mr. Stark’s head.

“Clint,” Steve says. He refrains from reaching out to touch Clint’s shoulder- it might be okay if they were alone, but not with someone else in the room. “You told us they went away. You said you were fine.”

Clint shrugs stiffly. “I am fine.”

“Obviously not, if your teacher noticed. How bad is it, really?”

“I said it’s fine, Steve. I’m handling it.”

“This isn’t something you can handle- Clint, just look at me.”

It takes a moment, but then Clint’s chin is jerking towards him. Everything about the gesture is defiant.

“How bad is it,” Steve tries again.

Clint’s jaw clicks from side to side. He mutters something, but it’s too low for Steve to hear.

“What?”

“I’mdeafinoneear.”

“ _You’re deaf in one ear_ ,” Steve hisses. “And you didn’t tell us? We could’ve-”

“Okay,” Clint says, with a laugh that doesn’t reach his eyes, “Do you know how much hearing aids cost? ‘Cause I do. And there’s no damn way we could’ve come up with that money, not now and definitely not earlier-”

“Ma always afforded it when it came to my health-”

“Yeah, and I didn’t want to-”

“-she’ll do the same for you!”

In front of them, Mr. Stark coughs into his fist. It makes the brothers jump- they had been getting caught up in the fight.

“There’s a program in this state to help families with financial issues afford hearing equipment,” he offers. “I have some pamphlets in my desk if you want them.”

Clint starts, “That’s not-”

Steve talks over him. “That’d be great, thanks.”

Mr. Stark nods and starts rummaging in his desk like he hadn’t just witnessed any of the past thirty seconds. He slides the pamphlets across the table and Steve picks them up with a tight smile.

He tucks them into his pocket and pretends not to notice how Clint is pointedly not looking at him.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

Clint continues to ignore him for the whole subway ride home.

Steve doesn’t push. He waits until they’re climbing the stairs to Sarah and Clint’s apartment, so Clint can’t escape, then says, “I always felt guilty when she had to spend money on me, too. God knows how much all those hospital visits cost. She never told me because she knew how I felt about it. One time I tried calculating them all up and I had to stop because I felt sick from it.”

They have to pause to concentrate on clearing the tricky step.

Steve chances a look over at Clint. He’s still not looking at him, but his face is less scarily-blank.

“Which ear is it?”

Clint hesitates. Then he taps his left one.

“Okay,” Steve says.

As they’re wiping their shoes on the welcome mat, Clint asks, “Are you gonna tell Sarah?”

“Not if you want to tell her instead.”

Clint makes a face, cheek tugging sideways. “Ugh. You tell her.”

“Okay,” Steve says again. He catches Clint’s arm as he’s about to open the door. “Hey, uh. Do you think you’re going to need me to come into school sometime? Later? For anything?”

Clint’s eyes narrow for a second before his gaze goes knowing. “Really? I’m about to get yelled at so hard I’m probably going to go deaf in my other ear and you’re thinking about banging my Mechanics teacher?”

“No?”

Clint snorts. “Yeah. Right. I promise to try to get in enough trouble in his class that he makes me drag you in again.”

“Please don’t.”

 

 

-

 

 

 

Sarah ended up coming home at 11pm after a double-shift, and hence was too exhausted to do anything other than pointing a finger at Clint and saying, “We are talking about this tomorrow. In _depth_ ,” with enough tired authority to make Clint start fidgeting.

“Steve spent the whole time flirting with my teacher!”

Sarah squints over at Steve, who is sat next to Clint having a midnight snack of baked beans. “I’m sorry. You said  _Steve_ flirted with your teacher.”

“So much.”

“Steve,” Sarah repeats. She walks over to take Steve’s chin in her hand, tilting it towards Clint. “My eldest son. The man who once managed to stammer his way into one date his whole life and then cancelled at the last minute due to nerves. That Steve?”

“That Steve.”

“I’m too tired to process this,” Sarah declares.

“Ma.”

“Yes, alien who has replaced my eldest son.”

“Could you let go of my face now?”

“Yeah,” she says, and does.

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

“Steve, holy shit, you have to come and get me.”

“What?” Steve takes on the same edge Clint has in his voice. The panic catches and stays: “Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Just come. Meet me at the office,” Clint says, and hangs up.

Steve curses into the dial tone and shoves his phone back into his pocket. He spares a look at the sandwich that was going to be his lunch, ignoring his growling stomach in favour of telling Sam to inform Peggy he has a personal emergency he has to take care of.

“Clint again,” Sam calls down the hall as Steve half-jogs down it.

Steve doesn’t bother with an answer- it’s always Clint.

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

He takes a look at the subway times and decides it’ll be faster if he just hoofed it. Then he takes a second to imagine Clint’s despairing face upon hearing Steve say ‘hoof it.’

 _If something happened to him_ , Steve thinks, and then doesn’t finish the sentence.

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

Steve arrives maybe five minutes before the subway would have dropped him off. He sprints to the office, heart pounding rhythms into his eardrums.

The office lady startles when she sees him. “Are you okay, sir?”

Steve holds his fingers up. “One minute,” he tells her, and then bends over to wheeze. It takes a good ten seconds for him to stop feeling like his heart is going to wrangle its way out of his chest. “ _Ahhhhhh_.”

“Whoa, that was fast.”

Steve whirls around to see Clint, his face the picture of the realization he may have fucked up.

Next to him, Mr. Stark is blinking at Steve in open surprise.

“Hi,” Clint says. He rocks back and forth on his heels, hands in his pockets. “Ha, yeah, I didn’t think this one through as much as I should. So! I thought I owed Mr. Stark a thank you for getting me this brand-spanking hearing aid and I did _not_ think you’d run all the way here I’m really sorry.”

He finishes the last part in a rush, the beginning of a wince on his face.

Steve straightens from where he had been bracing his hands on his knees to drag in breaths. “You got me to come all the way over here during work-”

“So sorry!”

Steve stares at him. His chest is still heaving. “I thought something _happened_ to you!”

“Yeahhhh-”

“I nearly got hit by a taxi! I ran seventeen blocks!”

“Really _really_ sorry, Steve.”

“I just wanted to point out that I had no idea this was happening,” Mr. Stark says. “Clint lured me here under false pretences.”

 _You and me both,_ Steve tries to say. But seventeen blocks takes its toll on a man, so all that comes out is “Hrhhhhh.”

The full extent of what Clint said kicks in once the ache in his lungs recedes. “Wait, you’re rewarding T- Mr. Stark?”

“Trying to.”

“With… me.”

“Yeeeep.” Clint grins in a way that hasn’t made any cops release him, but has made them slightly softer towards him. “Hey, figured you wouldn’t have any complaints.”

“I-” Steve’s mouth works wordlessly as he realizes the office lady is behind him and has heard the whole thing. He tries to put it out of his head. “You couldn’t have just given him my number?”

“You’re very awkward on the phone,” Clint reminds him. He sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Okay, so Mr. Stark’s got a couple hours until his next class! Go do something and never ever tell me about it.”

With that, Clint leaves. Steve watches him go, trying to catch his eye and communicate- in the way only siblings can do- how dead he’s going to be later.

Then the door swings shut behind Clint and Steve is left with nothing else to look at but Mr. Stark- Tony, he figures he should call him Tony at this point- who is looking much more amused than Steve feels.

“The nurse’s office is two doors down, if you need an inhaler.”

Steve barks a laugh. It’s hoarse. “Haven’t needed one in ten years, I’m not going to go back now.”

“Whatever you say,” Tony says. He pockets his hands. He’s wearing cufflinks. What kind of teacher wears cufflinks? “So, your brother’s a piece of work.”

“Adopted brother.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve says. He eyes the door Clint had walked out of. “My mother could never produce that demon spawn.”

It spurs a laugh out of Tony- it’s a light sound, in both meanings of the word. Steve finds himself wanting to paint the colours of it.

“Sorry you ran all the way here,” Tony says.

Steve groans. “It’s fine. I’ve been saying I needed to work out more for months.”

“Really?” Tony’s eyes flick down and then catch at the apex of Steve’s shoulders before moving over the bulge of Steve’s arms. “I’d say you’re good on that count.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, on reflex. He starts to cross his arms and then stops himself- it’d look like he was flexing to impress Tony. Which, okay, yes, he wants to do, but he’d prefer not to be overly obvious about it.

“Don’t mention it,” Tony says, waving a hand. “So, does your brother do this a lot? Give you to people as a thank you?”

“This would be the first time.”

“Any objections?”

“What?”

“Do you have any objections about being given to me as a thank you?”

“Um,” Steve says. It reaches a pitch he’d rather have never come out of his mouth. “I’m- opposed to people being bartered in general, yes. If I get given to anyone, I want it to be me doing the giving.”

“Oh?”

“That wasn’t an innuendo.”

“I believe you,” Tony says. His mouth ticks as he steps in closer, lowering his voice. “So, I was going to ask you to lunch.”

Steve makes himself focus on the words and not how he can feel Tony’s breath faintly on his neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Tony says. “But Ms. Golightly has been staring at us for the past several minutes and I’d rather not have an audience.”

“Right,” Steve says. He follows Tony out into the hall, glancing over at Ms. Golightly as he leaves- she gives him a sunny grin and a wave which he returns with about a third of the enthusiasm.

The hall is empty apart from a monitor. Tony waits until they’ve turned the corner before saying, “Do you want to go for lunch?”

“Jeez, this is so unexpected,” Steve says dryly. He takes perhaps more satisfaction than he should over Tony’s delighted laugh. “And, uh. I think I have to get back to work? But lunch would be great, some other time. Or dinner. Any meal is fine.”

 _There is no way I could’ve been more awkward on the phone_ , Steve thinks.

Thankfully, Tony seems to consider it cute, if his smile is anything to go by. “How’s dinner, then? Friday night?”

“Friday’s good,” Steve says.

“Great,” Tony says. His teeth are the kind of white that only celebrities have. “Could I have your number? In case another Clint-related emergency crops up and you can’t make it.”

“Oh, I’m not coming to another of his emergencies unless I have three people validating it first.” Steve sighed, tugging at the neck of his shirt. It’s soaked through with his sweat. “I’m gonna have to go back into work all sweaty.”

“Your poor co-workers,” Tony says, in a tone that makes it clear he means the opposite. “Well, I have a few hours free. I could give you a ride.”

Steve mentally shucks his return subway ride back into his Food Budget. “That’d be swell.”

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

Steve comes over to Clint and Ma’s apartment after work finishes purely to slap Clint in the back of the head.  

“Ow!”

“Seventeen blocks,” Steve says. He sits down and props his feet up on the coffee table with Clint’s. Both their feet quickly retract to the floor when Sarah walks in.

She’s in her scrubs, and is in the middle of tying her hair back when she spots Steve. “Hey! What’re you doing here?”

She goes over and bends to give him a kiss on the cheek and the obligatory hug, which he returns with gusto.

“I have to have a reason to see my favourite Ma?”

“Aw.”

“Also, Clint pissed me off and I wanted to give him a piece of my mind.”

Sarah’s gaze goes to Clint, one eyebrow raised.

“I did you a favour!”

“He ended up doing me a favour,” Steve corrects. “He also tricked me into leaving work in the middle of the day and running seventeen blocks.”

“How the hell did he trick you into that?”

“I have ways,” Clint says. He elbows Steve in the ribs. “You should be _thanking_ me.”

Steve pauses. “Thank you.”

Clint narrows his eyes at him before shoving him away, shuffling to the end of the couch. “Aw, you actually _slept_ with him? I thought you were gonna go all morals and ask for a date first, at least-”

Steve says, “I didn’t sleep with him,” at the same time Sarah says, “Who did Steve sleep with!”

“I didn’t sleep with him,” Steve repeats as they both stare at him. “He drove me back to work. We talked.”

“Was it a good _talk_ ,” Clint says, miming a handjob.

Steve kicks him in the shin.

Sarah asks, “Is this that teacher man you mentioned last week? The one who got Clint a hearing aid?”

“’S a one,” Clint says. His hand goes up to toy absently at the hearing aid- it’s purple and quite a lot bigger than Steve expected. “Thought I’d thank him for it.”

It takes a second for it to click and then Sarah is choking on laughter. “So you gave him _Steve_? You can’t just-”

“Well, it worked! And Steve seems pretty happy about it, once he got over the whole running thing.”

“ _Seventeen blocks_.”

“Quit whining.”

It nearly turns into a kicking war until Sarah gives them both a glare that makes them sit up and put their feet on the ground.

“So,” she says to Steve. “What’s this teacher like? Other than his habit of teaching teenagers how to build flamethrowers.”

“He’s called Mr. Stark. Tony. He’s nice. And very smart. Handsome,” Steve says, narrowly avoiding kicking Clint when he fake-gags. “Uh, he’s charming. Sophisticated. Funny. I don’t know what he sees in me, really.”

“Oi.” Sarah swats him on the back of the head. “No trash-talking about my son, you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve grins at her and the grin he gets back is nearly identical. “We’re going on a date on Friday.”

Clint stops slouching. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“ _Dude_ ,” Clint says. He slaps Steve on the shoulder. “Finally. It had _got_ to be getting embarrassing being 26 and never having gone on a-”

“Thank you,” Steve cuts him off. “Really, Clint, thanks, we had all forgotten about that. Thank you so much for bringing it up.”

“You’re welcome,” Clint says, and starts slouching again. He puts his feet up on the coffee table only to have Sarah push them off with her own.

“Clint.”

“Yeah, Sarah?”

“I know that you make a point not to do things I expressly forbid you from.”

“…Yeah.”

“I expressly forbid you from using Steve’s relationship with your teacher to get good grades.”

Clint flops sideways onto the arm of the couch, moaning like he’s been shot.

“Such a drama queen. I don’t know where he gets it from,” Sarah says.

“Ma,” Steve says. He lowers his voice so Clint can’t hear them over his moaning. “Don’t jump the gun. It’s just a date.”

“And you don’t want to get your hopes up,” Sarah says. Whatever confirmation she needs, Steve assumes she sees it in his face. Her hand comes to stroke through his hair like she always used to do when he was sick as a kid.

“And I don’t want to get my hopes up,” Steve agrees.

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

Steve’s had a lot of low points- that time he broke his back and spent the entire summer watching TV in his room. Getting fired from his first job at 16 after pouring orange juice over a homophobe’s head. All those times his mother gave him a _look_ after being called in about her eldest son getting in a fight.

Somehow, these all pale in comparison to getting first date advice from his ten-years-younger brother.

“You do realize a first date in your mid-twenties and a first date in your mid-teens is going to be entirely different, right,” Steve points out as Clint really gets going.

Clint snorts. “And how would you know? Anyway. _Flowers_.”

Steve isn’t sure if Clint is doing this to help or to fuck with him. He’s thinking 50/50.

“Do you know where you’re going?”

Steve tunes in again. He might’ve checked out when Clint started talking about condom myths. “We’re going to a restaurant.”

“No shit. Which one?”

“I don’t know, he picked it out.”

“So you might be going to a hella fancy restaurant and you’re showing up in a button-down and slacks? Maybe you’re going to a burger joint and he wants you to show up in jeans! Teachers get paid fuck-all, Steve!”

“You are not calming me down,” Steve hisses.

“Am I supposed to be calming you down? I’m preparing you, Steve. That’s so much better than calming you down.”

“I don’t need to be prepared! I need to be calm! I cancelled the only other date I might have had because I couldn’t stop freaking out!”

“You cancelled due to your self esteem issues,” Clint corrects him, rolling his eyes.

Steve bites down on _you can goddamn talk_ when Clint emerges from Steve’s chest of drawers, holding two ties Steve had forgotten he owned.

“We don’t know if I need a tie, Clint.”

“I know,” Clint says. He shoves said ties in Steve’s hands. “Bring them with you in secret, just in case.”

“Two of them?”

“We don’t know which one suits you better, I’ve never seen you _wearing_ a tie! Come here.”

Steve is busy wrestling Clint away from looping both ties around his neck and is using one of the ties to temporarily blind him when the doorbell rings.

Steve freezes in mid-action of stuffing the other tie into Clint’s mouth. It’s half an hour before Tony agreed on picking Steve up and Steve is still barefoot, his hair is a mess, they still haven’t decided if Steve’s current outfit is the one he’s wearing tonight-

“Unpucker,” Clint tells him, having spit out the tie while Steve was distracted. He pulls the other tie away from his eyes and starts towards the door. “I knew getting you ready for a date would be more than a one-man job, so I got a friend.”

Steve doesn’t have to ask who it is. “Hi, Natasha.”

“Steve,” she replies, walking in like she’s lived here her whole life. She takes it in with a quirk of her lips: the clothes strewn about the floor, Steve’s rumpled clothes and what Steve expects is his manic expression. “You look well.”

“How’s school,” Steve says, trying for polite as his brain runs a million miles an hour.

She hums. “Same as ever. Put on that tie.”

“It has my spit stains on it,” Clint says.

Natasha doesn’t ask. “Put on the other tie, then.”

Steve sighs, but does. This isn’t exactly how he’d been hoping to spend his time getting ready, but he supposes it’s better than working himself into a blind panic and cancelling on Tony ten minutes before their date.

Both Clint and Natasha tilt their heads at him, considering.

“You know nothing about clothes,” Steve tells Clint.

“Shut up, I’m helping.”

“Well, I’d prefer the other tie, but we can’t get Clint’s spit stains out of it before the date,” Natasha says, and comes to sit over on Steve’s tiny couch and looks over at Clint. “Why am I here again?”

“Because you owe me a favour.”

“And you cashed it in on getting your big brother ready for a date?”

“His _first_ date.”

Natasha’s eyebrows raise. “That’s odd. Steve’s very attractive and from what I’ve seen, he’s unusually nice.”

“Thank… you,” Steve says. He’s unsure whether he should take that compliment from a high schooler without it being inappropriate.

Her gaze turns to him. “Don’t take it the wrong way. I was pointing out facts. Do you secretly have a shitty personality or something?”

Steve’s mouth flaps open and shut as he struggles to answer. “Not that I know of?”

“Huh,” she says. She crosses her legs and leans back. “Twirl.”

Steve frowns at her.

“Turn all the way around slowly so I can see your outfit in its entirety,” she explains.

“Oh,” Steve says, and does.

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

By the time the doorbell rings for a second time, Steve has been shooting nervous glances at the clock and pretending he isn’t for the last ten minutes.

Natasha and Clint look up from where they’d been squabbling over what their next Bio project is going to be.

“Do _not_ tell Tony I had to get help from a couple of teenagers to get me ready for this,” Steve says.

“My lips are sealed,” Natasha says. She’s chewing on something Steve is pretty sure she snuck out of his cupboard at some point.

Clint makes a noise of agreement through his mouthful. He was less sneaky about taking things from Steve’s cupboard.

“Have fun with Mr. Stark,” Natasha adds.

“Ma says good luck,” Clint says, muffled through his food.

“Of course she does,” Steve sighs. “Go hide in the lounge.”

They whine about getting up, but go easily enough.

Steve makes his way to the door and definitely doesn’t stand there for several seconds psyching himself up to open it.

“Hi,” he says once he’s rushed his way through a mental pep talk and opened the door. His eyes quickly dart down Tony’s outfit in case he needs to yell at Clint later for getting him to put on the wrong outfit, but thankfully Tony seems to be dressed much like Steve is. He’s in dress slacks, a button down, a tie and a neat jacket, all of which are nicer than Steve’s, but that isn’t saying much. He’s also not holding flowers- is it bad he doesn’t have flowers?

“Hey,” Tony replies. He looks Steve up and down, but Steve doesn’t think it’s to check his outfit. “You look nice.”

“Thank you! You too.” Steve starts to continue to say- something horribly awkward, probably- but gets cut off by Clint yelling from the lounge.

“HAVE HIM BACK BY MIDNIGHT, MR. STARK.”

Steve has to close his eyes for patience. He turns his head to yell, “GO BACK TO MA’S, CLINT, DON’T YOU DARE STAY HERE UNTIL MIDNIGHT,” then turns back to Tony. “He came over and wouldn’t leave.”

Tony’s mouth is twitching like he’s holding back a laugh. “Hi, Clint,” he calls into the apartment.

There’s a pause, then: “REMEMBER WHAT WE TALKED ABOUT, SIR. ALSO NAT SAYS HI.”

“Oh, god,” Steve says.

Tony shrugs. “He might’ve cornered me yesterday after class.”

“Oh, _god_.”

“He only told me good things, don’t worry,” Tony says, grinning. “Should we go?”

“Yes. Right now.”

“Good idea. Bye, Clint and Nat,” Tony calls. “See you two on Monday.”

“SEE YOU AT MIDNIGHT, YOU MEAN-”

Steve yells, “GO HOME, CLINT,” and closes the door behind him.

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

Tony is still laughing when they get down to the street.

“Sorry,” he says, shoulders still shaking with it. He wipes at his eyes. “I just- every interaction with your family has been an event.”

Steve sighs. “Please tell me my Ma hasn’t ambushed you.”

“Is she the ambushing type?”

“I like to think she has the sense not to be.”

“So should I be expecting a woman to be hiding in the corner of our restaurant watching us from behind her menu?”

Steve smiled despite himself. Tony’s laughter had been enough to lift his spirits as they made their way into the street, and his teasing is enough for Steve to shake off most of his embarrassment. “I should hope not. She’d have to ditch work to do it, and she once worked a 48 hour shift with a raging fever. The only time she ever took time off was when she got called into school. And Christmas, she always takes Christmas off.”

“Yeah? Does Clint get her called away a lot?”

Steve laughs as they come up to Tony’s car. “Thanks,” he says when Tony opens the door for him. Once they’re both sitting in the car, he continues, “Ah, not so much lately. She used to get a lot of calls about me, though.”

“What trouble could you have possibly gotten into?”

“I got into a lot of fights,” Steve admits after a second.

Tony looks over at him before he starts to pull out of his parking spot. How the hell he managed to get a vacant spot in Brooklyn close to where he needed to go is beyond Steve. “Clint didn’t mention this in his run-down of you.”

“Christ,” Steve groans, bringing a hand up to push it through his hair. “What did that little shit say about me?”

“Only good things,” Tony repeats, a delighted grin growing on his face. “I have to say, your family sure is something.”

There’s a wistful note in Tony’s voice when he says it, and Steve looks over to see Tony’s eyes have gone soft.

“ _Something_ sounds about right,” Steve says, less gusto in it than he might’ve put in if he hadn’t noticed the change in Tony. “Do you have any siblings?”

Tony flashes his teeth at him, but the soft look hasn’t fully faded yet. “Oh, no. I’m an only child, can’t you tell? Hey, speaking of siblings, how’s Clint doing with his hearing aid?”

“He says he can hear atoms,” Steve says, all too gratified when Tony laughs. “I can’t believe he kept it from us this long. Looking back, it was obvious, but I always chalked it up to him not paying attention. I should’ve looked closer.”

He twists his fingers together in his lap. Should he have brought that up? It sounds too- heavy for a first date, maybe.

“You didn’t know what signs to look for,” Tony tells him. “Hell, I only knew what to watch out for because they went over it in one of my courses. Almost missed it, too. Clint was very stubborn about hiding it.”

Steve winces. “Yeah,” he says, casting his gaze out the window. They aren’t going too fast, what with all the taxis clogging up the streets, so nothing is blurring. “I’d say he got that from me, but the kid was stubborn as shit when we met him.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Tony says. His hands flex on the steering wheel. “You and your mother were looking for an addition to the family, then?”

“God, no. We were barely scraping by as it was, let alone considering bringing someone else into all of it. Ma found Clint hiding on the top shelf of a hospital supply closet ten years ago and everything kind of snowballed. It’s- a messy story,” Steve says, and hopes Tony doesn’t pry further. That _definitely_ isn’t first-date conversation, even if Steve glosses over the dark bits.

Tony nods. “Got it,” he says.

Steve leans back into the seat in relief. “Yeah. So, uh, where are we headed?” He twists to look out the window again to try to spot any familiar places.

“Heard of Lizmo?”

“Nope.”

“Glamorized steak joint. Is that okay?”

Steve tallies last week’s paycheck and attempts to remember how much he’s going to have left over after paying bills. “Sounds good.”

Tony looks relieved. “I thought about taking you to a gallery opening, but Clint said that was more of a second date thing. Said you’d feel too self-conscious to geek out over the art until you were sure I wouldn’t judge you about it.”

Steve stares at him. “When I see my little brother next, he is getting the noogie of a lifetime.”

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

The steak joint is a little more than Steve can afford, but he thinks he can splurge just this once. It’s probably the first time he’s gone out since Sam dragged him out for drinks last month.

Steve wants to ask just what the hell else Clint told Tony about him- like the fact that this is Steve’s first date, for one- but he bites it back. Instead, he asks, “So what made you want to become a teacher?”

Tony pauses in chewing the complimentary breadsticks. He swallows his mouthful and says, “Kids are people with all the bullshit taken out. Teenagers less so, but still.”

“You prefer teaching teenagers?”

“They’re better at keeping up with me,” Tony says. He bites into another breadstick. “So! Clint told me you’re busy with a lot of art commissions at your work lately.”

“I am,” Steve says, and then gives in. “What else did Clint tell you?”

Tony spins a half-eaten breadstick around in his hand like a drumstick. It makes Steve wonder if Tony is musical, and he makes a note to ask that next.

“He said you were the best guy he’s ever met,” Tony starts, “and that he wasn’t just saying that because you were brothers. He said you were an artist, that you would start ranting about baseball if someone mentioned it, and that you would’ve joined the army at 18 if your family hadn’t talked you out of it. Uh, he said your cock is porn-star material.”

Steve mutters, “Jesus fuck,” under his breath.

“I didn’t ask how he knew that, but I assume siblings walk in on things,” Tony continues, grinning a little at Steve’s reaction. “He said I might need to be overly obvious about liking you, since you need to be hit over the head with it to get it sometimes. I think that was it.”

“Okay,” Steve sighs. “Could’ve been worse.”

“I could tell you some more things about me, to even the playing field.”

Steve gestures for him to continue. “Go ahead.”

“Right,” Tony says. He clears his throat. “Okay! So I’m 25, I grew up in Malibu and moved to New York when I was 17 after getting disowned. I can speak… 8? Nine languages, most of them fluently. Once or twice a month I get really intense tunnel vision when I’m working on things and my friend has to come over and drag me into work, because I’ll forget I even have it. Sometimes I forget to eat for a few days, that problem’s mostly gone away since I started teaching since lunch is scheduled. Very helpful.”

Steve takes a moment to process all of it. Suddenly asking if Tony is musical isn’t even on his list of questions.

“Uh,” he says.

“Yeah,” Tony says, and grimaces. “It’s- yeah. Uh, you don’t know who I am, do you?”

“You’re Tony Stark.”

“That I am,” Tony says. He’s picked his breadstick to shreds as he talked, so now it all lies in white fluff on the tablecloth. “Of Stark Industries.”

“Stark In-” Steve’s mouth closes as the name registers. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Tony says. “Oh.”

Steve has vague memories of watching a documentary on Tony’s father’s success story- there had been a boy in there, hadn’t there, a kid at the time of filming who smiled shyly at the camera under a mop of neat black hair.

He doesn’t say that. What he does say is, “I think I jerked off to a photoshoot of you when you were a teenager.”

Tony blinks. Then he bursts out laughing, loud enough that the table next to them looks over.

“Oh, god,” Steve says. “Shit. I didn’t- that was really inappropriate- I was a teenager when I did it, I don’t-” he lowers his voice, “masturbate to teenagers’ photoshoots.”

Tony’s laughter is punctured with hiccups until it finally subsides into a silent laughing fit.

Steve sits there stiffly until Tony’s shoulders stop shaking.

“Fuck,” Tony says, wiping his eyes. “I haven’t laughed like that in years.”

“I shouldn’t have brought it up,” Steve mutters.

“No, no, it was great,” Tony says. A small giggle works its way out of him. “Best reaction I could’ve hoped for. You’re a godsend.”

Steve doesn’t know quite how to respond to that, so he doesn’t.

“I take it you didn’t follow my dramatic disowning when it happened,” Tony says.

“I think I was in university at the time. I was probably too busy doing homework.”

“That’s too bad. If they followed it, that means I don’t have to explain it,” Tony says, a dark twist to his mouth.

Steve shrugs. “Even if I did, I bet the media got it more wrong than they did right.”

“You got that right,” Tony says with a sigh.

A waiter comes up, smiling politely and holding a notepad. “Are you two gentlemen ready to order?”

There’s a pause as Steve and Tony realize they haven’t even opened their menus.

The waiter reads the look that gets exchanged correctly and clicks his pen. “Right! I’ll just come back later then. Wave if you need anything.”

Steve says, “We will, thank you,” at the same time Tony says, “Thanks, got it.”

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

There’s a brief interlude where they discuss the menu- mostly steak, Steve didn’t know what else he was expecting- until the waiter comes back and takes their orders.

“Did I drop all that on you too fast,” Tony asks as the waiter ducks into the kitchen.

“All of what?”

“The disowning thing.”

“I don’t think so,” Steve says. “Do you usually wait until after the first date to mention it?”

Tony makes a noise into his hand. He’s resting his elbow on the table and his chin in his palm. “You know, I don’t tend to go on many dates? I sleep with people, sure, ‘cause of the whole semi-famous thing, and, well-”

He waves a hand over his face and Steve can’t hold back a grin.

“True,” he says.

“Yeah,” Tony says. He rests his chin in his hand again. “But other than falling in and out of people’s beds, I think this is the first date I’ve gone on in a few years.”

Steve can’t think of any way to answer that apart from _but you’re stunning_. “The people of New York are missing out, then,” he says instead.

Tony says, “Thank you,” ducking his head. If Steve didn’t know any better, he’d say Tony was blushing. But he doubts someone who falls into as many beds as Tony does would blush at the random compliments Steve dredges up.

Tony’s throat clicks. “What about you? Do you date a lot?”

Either Clint didn’t tell him or Tony’s letting Steve admit it himself. Which is… nice?

“Not a lot, no,” Steve says, deciding evasion is the best tactic. As an excuse to avert his eyes, he picks up a breadstick and starts chewing at it. “I usually wait until my little brother wants to thank someone and then step up as an offering.”

Tony laughs, pleased. “I have to say, it’s a change, getting set up by my student.”

“Can’t be as weird as getting set up by your little brother with his teacher. Oh, not weird- well, it was weird at the time. It’s not weird now.”

“It’s not weird now,” Tony agrees.

Their food arrives and Steve is saved from fumbling his way through another sentence. The steak is good, bloody and tender, none of the tough texture Steve always gets when he treats himself at the supermarket.

They’ve lapsed back into comfortable conversation as they eat when Steve’s phone buzzes in his pocket.

He ignores it until it starts to ring.

“Sorry,” he says.

“It’s fine,” Tony says. “Check it, someone could need you.”

“He’d better not,” Steve says, but checks his phone. “It’s my Ma.”

He looks over at Tony in a silent question, to which Tony says, “Answer, it’s fine,” with a smile that Steve hopes like hell isn’t fake.

“Sorry,” Steve repeats, and clicks ‘answer.’ “Hello?”

“Hi, Stevie,” Sarah says. She sounds exhausted, but this isn’t new. She’s sounded exhausted for 80% of Steve’s life. “Just found out I’m working a double shift, could you make sure Clint eats dinner? You know how he gets, and he isn’t answering his phone.”

“Sure, I’ll check up on him.”

“Thanks, love.” She sighs into the phone.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says, like always. “How’re you? You aren’t still at work, are you? The hours they make you work-”

“Hey, _you_ can talk,” Steve says. “And no, I’m not at work. I’m, uh. Out.”

“You’re out,” Sarah repeats, the confusion clear in her voice. “Well, that’s great. Where are you- oh, _shit_. Friday.”

“Yeah.”

“Right now?”

“Yep.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Ma.”

“I’ll let you get back to your date. How’s it going so far? No, wait, tell me later, go get back to it.”

“It’s going good,” Steve says.

Tony perks up, raising his eyebrows at him in question. Steve avoids his gaze, smiling.

“Is it? That’s so great, Steve! Okay, I’ll stop bothering you now. Love you.”

“You too, Ma.”

He hangs up, meeting Tony’s bright eyes after he puts his phone back in his pocket. “Sorry. What were we talking about?”

“Flamethrowers,” Tony says. “What was going good?”

“Hm?”

“You told your mother something was going well,” Tony says, his eyes warm.

Steve cuts off another piece of steak and tries not to let his smile get too loose. “Oh, that was completely unrelated.”

“Yeah?”

“So unrelated to this date,” Steve nods. It’s hard to chew with a grin, but he thinks he manages it.

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

They’re walking to Tony’s car when Tony stops.

“Hey, quick question.”

“Shoot.”

“How would you feel about going to that gallery opening after all?”

Steve glances at his watch. “Would it still be open?”

“Should be. Anywhere else to be, Rogers?”

Tony holds out the hand that isn’t in his pocket and Steve valiantly pretends he isn’t getting butterflies. He’s a grown man, for god’s sake, and it’s just handholding.

Still, something warm zings down his spine as he slips his hand into Tony’s. “A gallery opening, apparently.”

Tony smiles, looking absurdly pleased. “Glad to hear it. It’s only two blocks, I thought we could walk.”

“Walking’s good.”

“So good,” Tony agrees. His thumb rubs at Steve’s as they walk. “Feel free to geek out, by the way. I promise not to judge you.”

Steve sighs. “Clint Barton-Rogers is living his last night on earth.”

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

Steve’s been to gallery openings before, thanks to a few friends in the business, but he’s never had more fun at one. He supposes he has Tony to blame for it- the art is about as captivating as Tony is, Steve is shocked to find.

He feels like he does sometimes after a night out with friends, a few drinks in and walking through a lit-up New York to their next destination: that the world is full of endless possibilities, that the skyline shot through with diamonds is solely for him to see, that there are millions of masterpieces Steve has yet to see and he can’t wait to see them all.

“Well, there goes my idea for our second date,” Tony says as they’re leaving. “What the hell are we going to do for it now?”

Steve’s mind vibrates with _Tony wants a second date_ , loud enough that he lets himself say, “I don’t much care, I just want to spend time with you.”

This time, Steve is sure of Tony’s blush. He ducks his head and grins, asks, “Yeah?” almost shyly.

Steve remembers that little boy in the documentary who showed the camera a robot he had made. “Yeah,” he says.


	2. Chapter 2

“Are you high right now?”

Tony startles, wrenching his gaze back to Rhodey. “What?”

“Are. You. High,” Rhodey repeats, and takes a mouthful of frozen yoghurt. “Sweet lord, that’s good.”

Pepper makes a noise of agreement around her own spoon. It’s pink and dotted with prints of kittens. “Told you this was the best froyo spot in town.”

“I’m not high,” Tony says.

“You seem kind of high,” Pepper tells him, muffled around her spoon.

“Well, I’m not.” Tony pokes his plastic spoon into his mini-container of froyo just in time to realize most of it has melted as he was gazing into the distance with a dopey smile on his face. “Huh.”

He looks up to see both of them staring at him expectantly.

He takes a mouthful of froyo to distract himself from what he’s about to say. It’s sufficiently distracting- shit, Tony’s going to have to come here again before they have brunch next.

“So,” he says after he swallows. “I have a boyfriend now, apparently.”

The change in his friend’s faces would be comedic if it wasn’t slightly insulting. The surprise quickly gives way to pleased smiles that Tony doesn’t quite know what to do with.

Rhodey’s mouth opens and closes wordlessly, then he says, “You know you have to continue, right? You can’t leave us hanging with that bombshell.”

“Bombshell,” Tony mutters. “It’s not _that_ surprising. I’ve had relationships.”

“You’ve had trainwrecks,” Pepper says. She’s eyeing the lack of fruit in Tony’s froyo like she wants to ask if he’s had anything healthy in the past week but she’s holding herself back because she’s ‘ _not his damn mother, Tony_.’

Tony scrapes some chocolate sprinkles onto his spoon to go along with his mostly-melted froyo. He says, “I’m cautiously hopeful it won’t turn into a trainwreck. Steve’s- different.”

“Oh, he’s _different_.” Rhodey rolls his eyes, but fondly.

“If you met him, you’d know what I mean,” Tony says. “He’s a born New Yorker, but he’s absurdly polite. Stubborn as a bull. _Gorgeous_. And according to his brother, he has the cock of a porn star, which I’m very excited about.”

Pepper chokes on her next spoonful as it goes down, laughing.

Rhodey pats her back. To Tony, he says, “You haven’t seen it yet?”

“We’ve only gone out twice.”

“And you haven’t slept together?”

“I’m hurt, Rhodey. Hurt and offended.” Tony grins. “No, we haven’t slept together. I’ve decided to take it slow with this one, since it’s the first real relationship I’ve had in years and I seem to fuck up every relationship I’ve ever had the moment it turns sexual.”

“Hey, we fucked ours up together,” Pepper allows. Her foot bumps Tony’s under the table as she crosses her legs. “And I’m still here, if you haven’t noticed.”

“And thank you for that,” Tony says.

Pepper continues, “You’ve met his brother?”

“Hm? Oh, he’s one of my students. The brother, not the boyfriend. He’s actually the reason we went out in the first place. Remember that kid I told you about, the one I thought had hearing issues?”

Rhodey says, “Is that the same one who filled the teacher’s lounge with gummi bears?”

“The very same,” Tony nods. He scrapes his spoon around the edges of his froyo, collecting the chocolate sauce and spooning it into his mouth. Shit, even the sauce is better than the dump he usually frequents. They might just have to come here for their next couple brunches. “Turns out I was right. Deaf in one ear.”

“How did gummi-bear kid being deaf in one ear get you a boyfriend?”

“I asked the kid to bring his parents in, and he brought Steve instead.”

Pepper sighs. She places her froyo container down on the table and gives him a look that reminds him scarily of how Jarvis used to look at him after he pulled a stunt. “Please don’t tell me you asked him on a date when you were supposed to be discussing his little brother’s hearing problems.”

“Ye of little faith,” Tony says, chin jutting out at her. “I restrained myself, thank you very much.” _Barely_ , he adds silently. The man was an Adonis.

“So what’d you do,” Rhodey asks. “Ah, shit,” he adds when the next spoonful of froyo drips into his lap. “Pep, do you have a-”

Pepper holds out a napkin and he smiles gratefully. “You’re an angel.”

“Don’t forget it, Jim.”

Tony watches them with a brief wave of exasperation. For all their talk about Tony’s emotional constipation, they’ve been dancing around getting together for years now.

“Tony,” Rhodey prompts as he swabs at the stain and succeeding in smearing it everywhere.

“Right,” Tony says. “Uh, I didn’t do much. The kid- Clint- I got him a hearing aid and he came up with the brilliant idea of giving me Steve in lieu of a thank-you.”

It’s Rhodey’s turn to choke, though Pepper looks close to round 2.

“He _gave_ you-?”

“He maneuverered us into a position where I could ask him out,” Tony says. “Which I did. We’ve been on two dates. I think it’s going well.”

He can’t stop the small smile that comes then as he remembers their last date, which had happened two days earlier- they had gone to a movie Steve had mentioned on their first date. It was something about spies in the 60s, and Tony had been more drawn in than he thought he would’ve been.

He’s going to have to watch it again sometime, since he missed about a third of the movie thanks to being lost in whispered conversation with Steve, conversations that got them told off repeatedly by the usher until they were threatened with being kicked out.

They had shut up then, but the banter quickly took off again the moment the lights came up.

The small smile grows as Tony remembers their kiss.

It had been at Steve’s door- they had started to part ways a few blocks back, but then they had been drawn back into talking and somewhere during that, they realized they had just walked right by Steve’s building.

 _So_ , Tony had said as they stopped at Steve’s door. _I remember being told that I’d have to really hit you over the head with this whole ‘I like you’ thing, since you apparently don’t get it otherwise. Thought I’d start now._

 _Go for it,_ Steve had said.

They had both been smiling: Tony had leaned up and in. Just before the brush of their lips had turned into a kiss, he had said, _I like you, Steve._

It had ghosted across his mouth: _I like you too, Tony._

Tony had kissed him then, the kind of kiss that took up everything else, mind and body. They had kissed and kissed until Steve had broken away with bright, puffy lips and said in a hoarse voice that he’d text Tony tomorrow.

There had been both relief and confusion at not having been invited inside, but they had been mostly drowned out by Steve’s dazed smile.

“Shit,” Rhodey says, effectively jolting Tony out of the memory. “You’re really gone over this guy.”

“Embarrassingly so,” Tony says. He examines the rest of his container- it’s a slush of froyo and sprinkles and sauce, all chocolate. He dips his spoon in and sucks it clean.

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

Steve almost knocks over a photo- it’s his most prominent one, his mother and Clint at his graduation- reaching for his phone when it vibrates.

It’s Tony: _7pm okay?_

Steve can feel himself smiling like an idiot. _7 is grand_ , he types out.

As he’s sending it, Sam clears his throat.

Steve looks up to see him grinning knowingly from his swivel-chair. He’s spinning lazily, keeping his eyes on Steve.

“Who was that,” Sam asks, clearly already knowing.

Steve glares at him, but there’s no heat in it. “It was Tony.”

“I’m shocked,” Sam says flatly. He wheels over to bump their chairs together. “What’d he say?”

“We’re just confirming our next date. We’re cooking dinner at my place tonight.” Because it’s Sam, Steve lets his smile go wherever it wants to, which is bordering on soppy. “And shut up.”

Sam raises his hands. “I didn’t say anything!”

“You have that look.”

“What look,” Sam says. Then he reaches up and squeezes Steve’s shoulder. “Proud of you, man.”

“The look that means you’re gonna say something like that,” Steve says.

He tries to turn around so he’s not facing him, but Sam just moves his swivel chair so they’re eye to eye again.

Steve sighs at the chair. “You’re abusing the swivel chair privileges.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, so you _didn’t_ get me to push you down the hall the last time it was your swivel week?”

“I may have done that.”

“Maybe,” Sam agrees. He leans back in the swivel chair, because it actually reclines, unlike the other pieces of shit they call chairs in this place. His hands fold together in his lap.

Steve squirms. It’s times like these that he remembers how Sam very seriously considered becoming a therapist. “What?”

Sam shrugs, says, “It’s good to see you happy.”

“I’m a happy person,” Steve says. Then his face twists at the wrongness of the statement- he hasn’t had a bad life, per se, but the road hasn’t been gilded with roses, either. “I’m happy enough,” he amends.

“Sure,” Sam says. “I’ve just never seen this whole-”

He waves a hand towards Steve. “You dating someone thing. It seems good for you. He seems good for you.”

“We don’t know that yet, it hasn’t been very long,” Steve says. But the flare of hope in his chest that has been awakened for the first time in a long time spurs him to continue, “I hope he’s good for me. That we’re good for each other.”

Sam grins at that, and claps him on the shoulder again.

The weight of it sets Steve’s mind. His throat clicks. “Hey, uh, Sam.”

“Yeah?” Sam’s voice has slipped back into his casual-therapist voice, one that Steve has come to be wary of.

“We’re going on our third date tonight.”

Understanding sparks in Sam’s eyes, but not enough. “You don’t have to do anything. You know all those dating rules are bullshit.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Steve’s fingers knot together until he forces them into his pockets. He sorely doesn’t want to meet Sam’s eyes for this- “So! I’ve never had sex.”

Sam looks surprised until he reigns his expression in, schooling it neutral.

Steve waits for him to say something until it visibly clicks for Sam that he’s being waited on.

“Huh,” Sam manages.

“You’re being very helpful,” Steve tells him, and sighs. “Yeah, that’s the reaction I generally get.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting that.” Sam clears his throat. He sits up straight in the swivel chair. “You’re worried Tony won’t react well?”

“Yeah. And your reaction _really_ didn’t help.”

Sam winces. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s fine, I know it’s weird.” Steve rubs at his temples.

“It’s not weird.”

Steve drops his hands to glare.

“The media wants us to think it’s weird,” Sam tries. “Hey, if Tony has an issue with it, that’s his problem.”

Steve huffs. He lets his head drop back against his chair. His crappy, rigid, non-swivel chair. “Sam, let me tell you, you don’t make it 26 years as a virgin without starting to think there’s something the matter with you. Don’t start, okay, I know it’s stupid,” he says as Sam opens his mouth. “It’s just hard to shake.”

“I’ll bet,” Sam says. Then: “If it helps, my impression of Tony is that he should take it well. If he doesn’t, he’s a dick.”

“Mm.” Steve blows out a breath. “I really _like_ him, Sam.”

Sam nods slowly. “Hey,” he says. “Want a go on the swivel chair?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

Steve cleans his apartment long enough he barely has time to put on nicer clothes in time for the date. It’s not that he’s a slob, it’s just that he rarely has the time to clean the shower or do laundry or put his clothes anywhere other than the floor after a hard day at work.

When Tony arrives, some of the nerves that have been building up all day start to dull. Others, however, ratchet up higher than before.

“Hi,” Steve says, looking at his lips. Should he kiss Tony? Is that allowed?

Tony solves his problem by saying, “Hi,” and leaning in.

Steve likes kissing Tony. It makes everything else fade into the background. The world zeroes in on Tony’s sweet mouth, his deft hands on Steve’s face- Steve likes Tony’s hands. Not as much as he likes kissing him, but they’re on his list. His list of things he likes about Tony.

There are a _lot_ of things on that list.

He circles his hands around Tony’s wrists, dragging them loosely down his arms until he reaches Tony’s shoulders- which are _definitely_ on Steve’s List, wow, Tony is hiding an impressive pair of arms under those jackets.

Steve squeezes Tony’s shoulders gently to feel the muscles flex under his jacket.

Tony hums into the kiss, pleased, and Steve’s lips curl in satisfaction.

Kissing Tony is- _very_ nice.

Then Tony is pulling away, and Steve distantly realized they may have gotten a little too involved in their hello kiss.

“Right,” Tony says, and coughs.

Steve is low-key proud to see his cheeks have gone glossy.

“Right,” Tony repeats, meeting Steve’s eyes. “Um. So, we’re- food?”

“Food,” Steve agrees. “In the kitchen. It’s through here.”

He leads Tony through the lounge, scanning for anything he forgot to pick up.

“Nice place,” Tony says, looking around.

“Thanks,” Steve says. He tries to see what his apartment would look like if he’d never seen it before.

The kitchen is less tidy than Steve would like it to be, but there aren’t any dishes stacked in the sink, so it’s still much cleaner than usual. There’s two chopping boards sitting on the bench, along with a pile of vegetables stacked next to a sealed bag of chicken.

Steve gestures towards it. “It’s, uh. Going to be chicken soup. And toast. It’s not fancy, but-”

“Who doesn’t love chicken soup,” Tony says easily. His gaze goes along the assorted vegetables and ends on the chicken. “Just so you know, I only started cooking when I got kicked out. You might find my skills lacking.”

Steve snorts. “I can tell you right now, I’m worse. We didn’t have a lot of money growing up, so we just boiled everything. Do you want to chop veggies or the chicken?”

“Chicken,” Tony answers, moving towards it. “Medium, even pieces, yeah?”

“You’re definitely better at cooking,” Steve says.

“We’ll see,” Tony tells him with a smile that gets Steve’s chest twisting.

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

The chicken pieces turn out remarkably even, much moreso than Steve’s job on the vegetables.

They both watch the stock bubble as Steve slides the ingredients from the chopping board into the pot with a knife.

“And now we just have to wait,” Steve announces.

Tony goes to wash the chicken off his hands. As he’s twisting a dishtowel around his hands, he asks, “And how will we entertain ourselves until then?”

He says it breezily, his hip cocked against the counter, but Steve thinks there’s something like a suggestion in his eyes.

Steve considers. “We could make out on the couch until the timer goes off.”

“I like the way you think, Rogers.” Tony grins.

This time, Steve isn’t looking for stray socks or dust bunnies when he enters the lounge- he’s watching the lines in Tony’s back as he walks.

He stops when Tony does, trying not to let his nerves show in his face when Tony turns around.

He doesn’t do a good job of it, apparently, because Tony’s face shifts. “You good?”

“I’m very good,” Steve says. It’s both a truth and a lie in one.

Tony looks dubious, but he steps closer, hooking his fingers into Steve’s belt loops, dragging him forwards. “You sure about that?”

Steve makes an affirmative noise. It’s hard to concentrate when Tony’s this close, looking up at him.

“Let me know if that changes, yeah,” Tony says, and kisses him, sweet and slow.

The nerves are still there, singing at the edges of Steve’s mind- but they’re drowned out by the din that accompanies Tony’s mouth slanting over his, Tony sliding his fingers around Steve’s back to trail down his spine.

Steve loses himself in the sensation, going willingly when Tony pushes him gently down onto the couch and straddles him.

 _Couch was a good suggestion_ , Steve thinks distantly. It’s better like this, Tony a warm weight against his front, kneeling over Steve’s thighs: he can feel so much more of him. His hands roam over Tony’s arms, around his back.

He brushes Tony’s collarbone with the tips of his fingers, feeling the bones under his skin. He touches Tony’s adam’s apple, follows the touch with his mouth and feels the rumble of Tony’s sigh against his lips.

It’s suddenly the most exciting thing he’s ever heard. Why has he gone this long without feeling someone sigh like that?

He presses kisses into Tony’s neck, maps out the tendons in it until he misses Tony’s mouth too much and tilts his head up for more kisses.

His arm comes around Tony’s back to press him closer, and Tony’s knees dig in harder to the back of the couch. They fit together, Steve thinks. They fit together easy as anything: Tony in his lap, his fingers in Steve’s hair, their mouths coming together again and again.

Briefly, Steve considers letting the soup burn and never making the toast and just staying like this for the foreseeable future.

He doesn’t whine when Tony pulls back, but it’s a close thing.

“Not that this isn’t nice,” Tony says, and Steve tries to concentrate on things that aren’t how breathy he sounds, “but I’m struck with this sudden and persistent urge to suck you off while we wait for the soup. Any thoughts on that?”

Steve has no thoughts for a good three seconds as he processes that. For a second after that, his thoughts are mostly swearing.

“Or we could just make out,” Tony says. “Orgasms can wait-”

“I’d, that’d be good,” Steve blurts.

Tony pauses. His hands are stroking Steve’s neck absently. “The blowjob?”

“Blowjob,” Steve nods. He swallows. “Yes. That’d be good. If you want?”

Tony smiles at Steve’s incoherence. “I want.”

“Then- yeah.” Steve’s sure his ears are bright red.

Tony grins. He gives Steve a long, open kiss that Steve feels all the way to his toes, and then he climbs off the couch and onto his knees. His hands rub at the jean-clad inside of Steve’s thighs.

“Shit,” Steve hears himself say. When Tony looks up, he says, “Sorry- you look really good, uh. Like that.”

It gets him a delighted laugh. “Thanks. Pass me a cushion? Your floors are hard.”

“Oh, sorry.” Steve gives him one and Tony pushes it under his knees.

Tony runs his thumbs along the top of Steve’s jeans. “You okay? You seem tense.”

For a lust-addled second Steve thinks he means Steve’s dick, and he’s about to reply _well you’re about to blow me, what do you expect_ , when it clicks. “I’m fine. I just- don’t do this.”

“What, get blowjobs?”

Steve shakes his head, the motion halting and his breath hitching when Tony unzips his jeans and pulls his cock free of his boxers. It’s- it’s a _sight_ , Tony with his hand curled lightly around Steve’s cock, mouth inches away.

“Fuck,” Tony says, eyeing it with what looked like hunger. “Clint was right.”

Steve’s stomach jumps with laughter. “Please don’t talk about my little brother right now.”

“Right,” Tony agrees.

Then he bends downwards and sucks the flushed head of Steve’s cock into his mouth.

Steve starts to shout, but manages to cut it off in the middle. “Ohhhh _shit_ ,” he gasps instead. His hands clutch at the couch cushions.

Tony might make an amused noise, but Steve is more than a little distracted. Also he very well might die, there’s a real chance of death by blowjob, everything in Steve’s brain is in rapid-fire as Tony bobs up and down, lips stretched around Steve’s cock.

“Holy fucking _crap_ ,” Steve hears himself say.

Tony definitely laughs, then. Around his dick.

Steve isn’t sure he should be offended.

This thought is quickly pushed from his mind when Tony tongues his way around the head of Steve’s cock, pressing sucking kisses to it. Steve groans, letting his head fall back into the couch, and Tony takes his cock into his mouth again, sliding down until Steve’s pushing against the velvet clutch of his throat, slipping inside-

The door opens.

It doesn’t compute at first, lost in a haze of _hotslicktight_ , and the sound of his door clicking open is something to get shelved for later.

His Ma yelling, “JESUS TAPDANCING FUCK,” and ducking back into the hallway, however, is something to be dealt with as soon as possible.

Steve freezes, starts scrambling to shove himself back in his jeans as Tony sits back and wipes furiously at his mouth and tries to get his hair back in order.

“Shit,” Tony says as Steve winces his way through zipping up over a raging erection. “Was that your mother?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit,” Tony repeats. “That was _not_ a good first impression.”

“No,” Steve agrees.

“That’s maybe the worst impression she could have gotten. The first thing she ever saw of me was my mouth around your dick. Fuck.”

“Hey, I’m the one who should be freaking out,” Steve says. “And it could be worse. She didn’t see _your_ dick.”

“True.”

“And hey, you could’ve been rimming me. That would have been worse.”

It startles a laugh out of Tony. “Also true.”

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

Sarah is in the hall when they step out, and smiles the most awkward smile Steve’s ever seen her wear when she sees them. He thinks he might’ve inherited it.

“Hi. I’m- really sorry, I should’ve knocked, I just didn’t think-”

“It’s okay,” Steve says. “Uh. Why are you here?”

She gives him a look. “It’s Wednesday, Steve.”

“Wednesday,” Steve says, and then it clicks. “Wednesday. _Fuck_ , I forgot to reschedule our movie night. We have weekly movie nights,” he explains to Tony.

Tony asks, “You’re allowed to swear in front of your mother?”

“Not officially,” Sarah says, at the same time Steve says, “I’m allowed to swear after she swears.”

She swats him on the shoulder. “I just saw my son’s cock in a man’s mouth, of course I swore! I’m Sarah, by the way. You must be Tony.”

Tony takes the hand she offers and smiles with a confidence Steve thinks he’s faking. “Lovely to meet you, Sarah. Sorry it was under these circumstances.”

“It’s fine,” she sighs. “At least I didn’t see yours.”

Tony chokes on a laugh. “Your son pointed out the very same thing.”

“I don’t know how to feel about that,” Sarah admits. She hefts her handbag over her shoulder. “Well, I’ll be off, then. Sorry for- sorry. About it. I’ll let you two get back to, uh.”

The timer goes off, dinging faintly from inside the apartment.

“Soup,” Steve says. “We were- we’re having soup.”

“And toast,” Tony adds. “Shit, we forgot the toast.”

“We can make toast.”

“Great,” Tony says. He hesitates, glancing over at Steve before asking, “Uh, would you like to come in for soup and toast?”

Sarah raises her eyebrows. “Right now? Weren’t you two- busy? With something?”

“Soup,” Steve tries weakly.

Sarah looks between the two of them. “Steve?”

“You did come all the way over,” Steve says. “And Tony really wants to make a first impression that doesn’t involve- you seeing things you’d rather not see.”

Sarah’s mouth twitches. “Soup and toast it is, then.”

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

Halfway through the dinner, Tony excuses himself to the bathroom to find he has a text from both Rhodey and Pepper asking how the date is going.

Tony answers both with: _his mom showed up while I was blowing him and now she’s eating dinner with us_.

Then he pockets his phone, sure that wherever his friends are, they have their well-worn ‘how the fuck do you get yourself into these situations’ expressions they reserve especially for Tony.

Steve’s bathroom is small and cramped, much like the rest of his house. His shower is in his bathtub, so Tony dislikes it on sight, and there’s a crack running down the cabinet mirror.

The crack distorts Tony’s face in half, so his mouth slants oddly as he says, “Okay. You can handle this. Things are going fine. You haven’t said anything outrageously unwise since she got here, just keep that streak going.”

He gives himself a stern look before returning to the lounge and sitting on the couch that he had been blowing Steve on approximately 40 minutes ago. He’d sit somewhere else, but Steve only has one table and it’s in front of the couch.

His soup is lukewarm when he picks it up again, dipping his toast into it. The soup turned out pretty well, he thinks- a little salty, but Tony’s partial to salty soups.

“So, Tony,” Sarah says. The table is between them and she’s sitting in a beanbag chair Steve dragged over. “How’s Clint been in class lately?”

Tony swallows his toast. Clint is a safe topic, mostly. He’s surprised he hasn’t come up earlier in the conversation. “He’s good! Everyone else says he’s been paying more attention. The other teachers, I mean.”

Sarah beams. “I had hoped. He hasn’t had a detention for two weeks, nearly.”

“Think that’s a record,” Steve says. The red still hasn’t completely faded from the tips of his ears. “Ma, could you pass the toast?”

“’Course,” she says, and slides the plate over.

Steve picks up a piece and starts chewing, sans soup.

Tony says, “Your accent is thicker around your mother.”

“Huh?” Steve winces when his too-large mouthful goes down thick in his throat. “Oh, yeah. That happens.”

“It’s cute.” Tony grins.

“ _You’re_ cute,” Steve says with a surprised smile. He glances over at his mother, like he isn’t sure this is allowed, but she’s smiling even wider than he is.

She waves a dismissive hand when she catches Steve looking. “Oh, please. I crashed your date, I’ve accepted I’m going to see some soppiness.”

“I’m real sorry I forgot to reschedule,” Steve says. “I know it’s your night off-”

She waves her hand again. “Water under the bridge. Besides, I finally get to meet the teacher Clint’s been raving about for over a year.”

“What, Steve doesn’t rave about me?”

“He starts to,” Sarah says, reaching for more toast. She bites off part of the crust and continues, “But he gets embarrassed and cuts himself off halfway through.”

Tony finds that he’s stupidly charmed. When he looks over at Steve, he’s giving his mother a pointed ‘ _oh my god mom shut up’_ look.

Steve notices Tony’s gaze and shrugs bashfully. It’s the most adorable thing Tony’s seen since take-your-pet-to-school day happened last year.

“I did the same thing when I had my first boyfriend,” Sarah continues.

Steve goes stiff. It wouldn’t be noticeable if his knee weren’t pressing into Tony’s.

Tony asks him, “Oh, have you only been out with girls before?” He keeps his tone light, since it’s obvious Steve is self-conscious about it. Maybe this liking-men thing is a new development.

Steve makes an indecisive noise in his throat, eyes on his soup bowl. He seems to become absorbed in his soup, scraping his spoon around the bowl to get the last of the vegetables.

In front of them, Sarah clears her throat. She isn’t meeting Tony’s eyes, either. “So! What are you getting your students to make for their final project this year? Something less flammable than last year, I hope. I had to pay for the damages when Clint burned down that poor teacher’s desk. That wasn’t yours, was it?”

“It was, actually.”

“Oh, god.”

Tony laughs. “It’s fine, I wasn’t that attached to it.”

“I got you such a crappy replacement desk!”

“I like my desk. It has character.”

“Character’s a word for it.”

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

Steve stays more or less silent for the rest of the dinner, but he looks like he’s back to normal when his mother announces she has to get home.

“See you this weekend, Ma.”

“I’m buying the food,” she tells him, and kisses his cheek when he envelopes her in a hug.

Tony doesn’t know what he’s expecting- a handshake?- but it’s certainly not the hug that Sarah gives him. She’s a good hugger, squeezing him tight before she lets go.

“It was lovely to meet you, Tony. Let’s hope next time it’s under better circumstances.”

“Let’s hope,” Tony agrees.

When the door closes behind her, Tony says, “Your family’s very close.”

“Mm,” Steve says. His hands are in his pockets. “I take it yours isn’t so close?”

Tony laughs. “Close would be the world’s biggest overstatement. So, no.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Is what it is,” Tony says, shrugging.

Steve’s shoulders are hunched as he turns to him. “I’m sorry about,” he starts, and pauses to tug a hand through his own hair. “Uh, I’m betting this wasn’t what you pictured tonight would look like.”

“I like Sarah,” Tony offers.

“Yeah?” Some of the stiffness retreats from Steve’s posture. “She likes you, too.”

“She wasn’t just being polite to the new boyfriend?”

Steve barks out a laugh. “If she didn’t like you, you would know. Trust me.”

Tony does, is the thing. It’s mildly worrying. “How did you picture tonight?”

“I… don’t know,” Steve says. “I don’t really have a frame of reference. I haven’t, uh. Been in a relationship before.”

 _Oh_ , Tony thinks, taking in the rigid shoulders, the pocketed hands, the squared jaw with a new understanding. “You mean nothing serious, or-”

“Before we met I’d never gone on a date.”

Oh. “Oh,” Tony says. “Wow.”

“I know it’s… odd,” Steve says. He’s meeting Tony’s eyes this time, like a solider would look down the barrel of an enemy’s gun. “I don’t really have an excuse. It just never happened for me.”

Something clicks in Tony’s mind. “Hey, back before your mom walked in, you said you don’t get blowjobs a lot.”

“Yeah, I.” Steve’s throat clicks. He shifts from foot to foot. “Haven’t exactly slept with anyone before.”

“Really? Not even-”

“Nope.”

“Wow,” Tony repeats. His hands come up to wave vaguely around Steve. “But you’re so-”

Steve glances down at himself. “I didn’t always have muscles, Tony. I was skinny as a beanpole until I was 21.”

“No, I didn’t mean that,” Tony says. “I mean, sure, the packaging is spectacular, but- do you know how hard it is to find a nice, interesting guy in New York?”

Steve blinks in what looks like surprise at ‘interesting’ before saying, “Well _, I_ managed.”

Tony has to take a second to squash the flutters that start up in his stomach. “There you go again, being totally dateable.”

It pulls a smile from Steve, more of the tension in his posture easing. “So… you don’t… I mean, I know this could be a dealbreaker.”

Tony says, “So you’re inexperienced. Everyone’s inexperienced at some point.”

“Usually not in the tail end of their twenties.”

“We don’t _know_ ,” Tony says. “Have you gone around and done a poll on who’s a virgin? Hey, quit looking like I’m going to break up with you. C’mere.”

He pulls Steve into a hug, mostly out of not knowing what the hell he was going to do about that hangdog look on Steve’s face. He wraps his arms around Steve and tries to mimic the hug Sarah had given him, since he doesn’t do hugs very often and sometimes forgets the intricacies involved in giving them.

He finds, despite Sarah’s impeccable hugging abilities, he likes Steve’s better. His arms are big enough to circle Tony completely, and he’s so big and warm it’s like being hugged by a teddy bear. A firm, muscular teddy bear.

“I like you,” Tony says. “Remember?”

After a moment of hesitation, Steve presses his face into Tony’s neck. “I like you, too.”

Tony supposes he should let go now, but Steve is comfortable and he smells good- like fresh laundry and the faint smell of sweat, which Tony supposes is from the interrupted blowjob. Also, Tony hasn’t gotten a lot of hugs in his life, so when he gets one from someone he cares about, he tends to cling.

Steve doesn’t seem to mind. He’s slowly relaxing, the tension melting out of him the longer he stays like this.

“Thank you,” Steve says quietly.

Tony opens his eyes. When had he closed them? “What, for not breaking up with you?”

“…Yeah.”

Tony snorts and pulls back. “Your standards about dating are really low, you know that?”

At that, Steve’s face goes apologetic. “Yeah, I- thought the soup and toast thing was pushing it. I’d have taken you out somewhere, but I’m kind of scraping by this week-”

“No, shit, I didn’t mean that,” Tony says hastily. “Soup and toast was great!”

“It’s soup and toast, Tony.”

Tony flounders. “Okay, so it wasn’t fancy. Still, I love that you feel comfortable enough with me to invite me around and make dinner. It’s- it’s nice.”

It’s scarily domestic, is what it is. They had wavered between conversation and easy silence as they prepared the soup and Tony had looked over at Steve slicing the carrots, hair falling into his eyes as he tried to get the pieces even, and found himself hoping this wasn’t the only time he’d get to make dinner with Steve in his tiny kitchen.

It gets hope sparking in Steve’s eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Tony squeezes Steve’s arms. “I really liked the date, Steve.”

“I did, too,” Steve says, and pauses. “Could’ve done without my Ma walking in on me getting my dick sucked, but hey.”

Tony laughs, startled. “That wasn’t how I hoped to meet her, no. But it turned out well enough. At least she likes me. Not as much as you do, I hope.

“I’d be very concerned if that was the case,” Steve says. His hand comes up to touch Tony’s cheek and suddenly Tony is hyper-aware of their closeness, of how Steve’s cheeks are starting to flush. “Tony?”

“Yes?”

“Is it okay if I kiss you?”

“You don’t have to ask,” Tony says, nudging closer. Their noses brush. “Anytime you want to kiss me, go for it.”

Steve shakes his head. “Wouldn’t work. I want to kiss you all the time.”

Oh, Tony _likes_ him. He likes him enough it’s starting to feel dangerous.

“Feel free to do that,” Tony murmurs, and then Steve is smiling against his mouth.

They kiss past the point where it starts getting heated- which doesn’t take very long, since their chemistry is explosive at the best of times- but Tony keeps it PG when he’d usually be moving them towards the bedroom by now.

 _Maybe PG-13_ , Tony thinks as he gives in and lets his hand slide down to squeeze Steve’s ass. Do ass-grabs make it into PG-13 movies? Tony hasn’t actually checked what the restrictions are.

Steve is wonderfully responsive, gasping when Tony kisses his neck, moaning when Tony tugs at his bottom lip with his teeth. When Tony grips his ass, his breath hitches and his hips twitch forwards, enough that Tony can feel the erection straining against his jeans.

Tony presses close enough for Steve to feel his hardness, wary of Steve’s reaction. It’s been a while since he’s slept with a virgin- since he was a teenager, maybe- and he’s ready to let Steve decide how far he wants to go with this.

“Shit,” Steve gasps, grinding closer. The hand in Tony’s hair tightens.

Tony bites back an appreciative whine. Instead, he pulls back enough to ask, “So, hey, I don’t want to traumatize you.”

“Do I seem-” Steve mouths at his collarbone. “-traumatized?”

Tony shivers at how affected Steve sounds. “Not at all. Just making sure you’re on board with all of this.”

“I’m on board,” Steve says. His pupils are blown. “Kiss me again?”

“Fuck yes,” Tony says, and does.

They’re grinding on each other when Steve draws back. He kisses Tony between words: “I really- want- to see you come.”

An imaginary stadium cheers in Tony’s head. “Back at you,” he says. “I could finish sucking you off, if you wanted. You could jerk me off after.”

Steve’s head moves in an uneven nod. “Sounds- sounds good.”

“Good,” Tony says.

They stumble towards the couch and Tony whacks his shin against the table since they can’t seem to stop kissing long enough to notice where they’re going.

Steve’s already holding a cushion out when Tony falls to his knees.

“Thanks,” Tony says, giving Steve a kiss that gets drawn out when Steve bends to take Tony’s face in his hands and doesn’t let go.

“Quit it,” Tony says into his mouth. Steve’s tongue is very distracting. “’M trying to blow you.”

“Can’t you blow me and kiss me at the same time?”

“Sadly the technology hasn’t been invented yet,” Tony says, and gets back down on his cushion.

They’re both fumbling to get Steve’s jeans open when Tony notices Steve’s hands are shaking. He pauses in undoing the zipper to place his hand over Steve’s.

“You good?”

“I’m fine, this happens when I get- worked up,” Steve says.

Tony gives him a once-over: he’s panting, a fine line trembling through his body, his hair askew and his hips twitching up whenever Tony touches him. He looks like the picture of enthused consent, and Tony supposes everyone’s nervous their first time.

Still- “You sure you’re on board with this?”

Steve’s nodding before Tony even finishes talking. “On board. Completely on board.”

“Okay, then,” Tony says, and pulls Steve’s cock out of his jeans. His lips part at the sight. Shit, he’s so _hard_ , dark pink with blood and shiny with precome.

Steve moans helplessly, wrecked just by Tony’s hand around him. “Fuck. I’m not gonna last. _Shit_ ,” he adds, gasping raggedly as Tony licks his shaft clean of precome. “ _Tony_.”

Tony likes sucking cock at the best of times, but Steve has his mouth watering. Later, when Steve isn’t seconds away from coming, Tony’s going to give this man the most thorough blowjob in the history of man.

For now, though, he’s going to attempt to give the best blowjob he can before Steve comes. Which, given by the state of him, shouldn’t be long.

When Tony takes Steve into his mouth, Steve makes a sound like he’s being strangled, but in a way he intensely enjoys.

 _You are going to be amazing for my ego_ , Tony thinks through the haze of lust. He feels Steve’s cock bump the back of his throat and starts to ease him forwards into it-

Steve comes with a shout, one hand coming up from where he’s been white-knuckling the couch cushions to grip in Tony’s hair, holding him in place as Steve comes down Tony’s throat.

Tony swallows throughout it until Steve’s grip disappears and he can ease off- too soon, apparently, because another weak spurt lands on Tony’s goatee. He wipes it off and looks up to see Steve looking like he’s just seen the face of god.

Of course, the first words out of his mouth are, “Did I hold your hair too tight?”

“I liked it.” Tony grins.

“Oh.” Steve’s chest is heaving. “Come up here. Wanna touch you.”

Tony almost trips as he climbs up into Steve’s lap. He opens his mouth to ask _what’s your opinion on kissing after blowjobs_ but gets cut off by Steve’s tongue in his mouth.

Turns out he never needed to ask: Steve lets out a startled moan as he licks into Tony’s mouth, his grip tightening on Tony’s shoulders.

“You were really good at that,” Steve says through the kisses. “Have to show me later. Let me touch you?”

“Yeah,” Tony rasps, and Steve’s hand comes around to start undoing Tony’s pants. Tony jolts as his fingers brush Tony’s cock through the fabric, eyes snapping shut when Steve gets his cock in his hand.

He gives it an experimental stroke, which gets firmer when Tony groans his approval. Tony opens his eyes to see Steve watching Tony’s cock slip in and out of his curled hand, dazed and eager, like he can’t believe this is happening.

Tony gets his hands under Steve’s shirt and decided they have to take it off immediately, holy crap. “Gonna take your shirt off,” Tony tells him.

Steve nods and kisses him, keeps kissing him even as Tony works his shirt off his shoulders, only stopping when Tony touches his nipples and Steve’s head falls back against the couch.

“You like that?” Tony brushes the pad of his finger over one.

Steve grunts, his rhythm stuttering around Tony’s cock. He starts rubbing at the head of Tony’s cock, keeps doing it when Tony makes a small noise and lets his forehead drop onto Steve’s.

“Yeah, just like-” Tony’s getting close, he can feel the heat pooling in his stomach. “ _Steve_.”

“Want to see you naked,” Steve tells him. He’s watching him, switching between his face and his cock like he doesn’t know which one is hotter to see. “God, Tony, look at you-”

“Next time,” Tony promises. He can’t keep his eyes open as he thrusts into Steve’s hand. “Fuck. I’m gonna-”

Steve’s pace increases, thumb flicking over the head as he strokes.

“Kiss me,” Tony says, and Steve does, and Tony cries out into his mouth as he comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I won't lie- this probably won't be continued. Life things came up and shoved this story way, way back on my list of priorities. 
> 
> Sorry, guys!

**Author's Note:**

> here's my [tumblr](http://theappleppielifestyle.tumblr.com/).


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